Black Heart
by drawingdisaster
Summary: It started out as a joke but the idea soon transcended the realms of inferior, conventional shipping. This anthology shall be a collection dedicated to the mightiest champion of the Institute of War, Teemo, and his endeavor to romance the dark ladies of the League.
1. The Scout's Swift Embrace

**I felt like this little gem deserved to be posted separately from the Random Oneshot collection. I want to hear your opinions on the pairing.**

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The decor of the small establishment was exquisite. Lavish leather chairs were placed around the lacquered wooden tables and circular stools were lined up in front of the long marble counter. A live orchestra of finely-dressed gentlemen was performing for the entertainment of the patrons filling the air with the masterfully composed notes of Bardoven and Mordchart.

"Your drink, Sir." Singed bowed as he placed a crystal glass on the marble counter. The bald barman was the newest addition amongst the _Villains Bar's_ employees and he made sure to be polite with every patron that he served. Singed, unlike his unfortunate predecessor, was wise enough not to risk displeasing the crème de la crème of Valoran's sinister schemers.

"Thank you, Singed," A chirpy voice replied, small furry fingers wrapping around the cold, thin neck of the glass to bring it closer to an equally furry face. Teemo tasted his martini and hummed in satisfaction, gesturing for Singed to return back to his work. The bald barman bowed to him once again, before leaving to serve a bored-looking woman with a snake bottom half and numerous pearl necklaces spilling on her bodice.

Content with enjoying his drink at his leisure, Teemo let his gaze travel across the patrons that socialized with their peers. The Swift Scout spotted quite a few familiar faces amongst them. There was Lissandra that poisoned her niece with an apple-flavored popsicle, Gankplank , that shot his father to steal his golden tooth. A few stools to the right of him Xerath was discussing magic with Veigar dressed in a tuxedo that was literally smoking. Tahm Kench was savoring his kittenpie on his left, and Renekton was arm-wrestling with Star Guardian Zoe. The fuming alligator was actually losing to the corrupted Aspect of Twilight.

Taking another sip from his glass, Teemo reached into the pocket of his striped black suit producing a golden cigarette case. Placing a slim cigarette between his lips Teemo patted his pockets for a lighter. The Swift Scout paused when a feminine hand held up a lighter close to his Malzboro. His gaze climbed up to the smirking face of the breathtaking stranger as he leaned forward to make use of her offered flame.

"Thanks, Love," Teemo smiled dashingly, leaning back on his stool to examine the purple velvet garb of the stunning redhead. The woman was wearing a skimpy, frilly costume the likes of which rich heiresses would don at masquerade balls and high society events. The revealing outfit hugged her curves perfectly and along with her embroidered mask gave the woman an air of mystery, "Let me buy you a drink as a token of my gratitude." Teemo hummed seductively straightening his body, his expensive suit going taut against his defined muscles.

Teemo lifted his hand and snapped his fingers to draw Singed's attention. The barman rushing in to serve Evelynnn her Bloody Mary before departing as swiftly as he had approached them.

"What a gentleman... Well, if you insist..." Evelynn purred with a sly smile, halfway lowering herself over the marble counter as she accepted her Bloody Mary to tease her prey with a better view of her cleavage.

The demoness' lashers slithered across the floor like a pair of excited snakes.

This yordle was brimming with confidence, seemingly leading a happy, content life. Evelynn couldn't wait to guide the furry man away from prying eyes and inflict the worst kinds of pain upon him. The short gentleman's agony would fuel her dark heart with ecstasy the likes of which no mortal being could hope to comprehend. The demoness could feel her quarry's desire for her as her fingertip sensually rubbed the rim of her tall glass.

This bar with its strict clientele of egotistical cretins and magical drama queens was a real goldmine for a sadistic pain-devouring demon like Evelynn. Everyone and each one of the _Villains Bar's_ patrons believed that they deserved her attention. They assumed that they could seduce her by flaunting their wealth in front of her and impress her with talks of their nefarious achievements.

Evelynn humored them as she listened to them boasting about conquering the world, seizing kingdoms and law firms and backstabbing their partners in shady deals. The foolish mortals willingly inviting her to their lairs and secluded homes, never questioning what her presence would suggest in a bar that exclusively served villains until it was too late.

And now another wannabe schemer was making nauseating advances to her while looking at her with lustful eyes. Evelynn giggled in delight as the furry man finished his story about extracting poison from exotic mushrooms and ambushing his enemies from behind cover.

"Fascinating," Evelynn cooed in fake enthusiasm, the demoness' hand sliding across the cool countertop to cover the yordle's furry appendage with her own. Squeezing its palm encouragingly, the prowling demon was rewarded by a sparkle of arousal entering the short male's eyes, his breathing hitching for a single moment. "But how about we take this elsewhere?" Smiled the disguised lust demon.

"Somewhere more private, where you can share the tantalizing details of your evil triumphs over mankind with me without having to worry about rivaling schemers overhearing us and stealing your grand ideas." She stoked the man's ego, complimenting his villainy while observing the other patrons of the bar with a troubled expression.

Nobody was paying attention to the fat tales of the yordle of course, but that wasn't important. Evelynn needed an excuse to lure her victim away from the patrons. She could almost taste his agony, oh how she was going to savor his death cries. The demoness was getting impatient.

The furry male's thick eyebrows furrowed as he scowled at the crowd of perceived eavesdroppers. He nodded determinedly after a moment, throwing some bills on the counter while hoping off his stool and dusting himself off. Evelynn could hardly contain her glee. Her lashers were twitching behind her in anticipation as the she-demon followed the short gentleman outside.

The yordle's lair wasn't anything like what Evelynn would have expected it to be. The secret base of the villain was a moderately big castle made of some kind of black rock instead of the tall skyscraper that one would assume in this day and age. Leering statues of winged demons and vigilant gargoyles decorated the spiraling towers that rose towards the sky.

The glided door to the garden clanged ominously as her host led her across a decrepit yard filled with crumbling abstract sculptures and thriving, wild plant life. From what the devilish seductress gathered from the ramblings of the prideful man, Teemo's bloodline was amongst the oldest ones in Valoran, although their wealth and influence had greatly diminished through the passage of time. Castle Brimstone, as the yordle had called it was the last vestige of the family's golden age when explorers braved the wildness in search of glory and historics recorded cautionary fairy tales next to actual events as indisputable facts.

The interior of the building was dim enough for Evelynn to merge into its shadows, yet her host seemed to be able to navigate its endless halls with his eyes closed. The demoness spied ancient suits of armor standing guard next to dusty glass cases that contained ratty books and parts of stone plaques. Further examination revealed that the damaged slabs in the displays had foreign words chiseled into them, faded angled symbols could be seen on their uneven sides where the slabs had been fractured and shattered.

Teemo turned towards Evelynn after lighting the fireplace. The orange hue of the cackling flames illuminating the antiques of the living room, the shadows danced to the hypnotizing tune of the swaying fire.

"Welcome to Castle Brimstone..." Teemo chirped from in front of the fireplace, the outline of his short silhouette being easily discernible in the pulsing flare of the fireplace while his furry features were bathed in darkness. Curved slits of red could be seen approximately where his formerly closed eyelids should be located. Evelynn noted that detail with disinterest. She didn't know a lot about yordles, but even if the squeaky creatures possessed night vision it wouldn't save her prey once they were within slashing distance.

"Thank you for having me here," Evelynn giggled as she shed her human facade to reveal her true form. Wisps of darkness replaced her porcelain skin, her silken and velvet clothes and mask merged into her body, disappearing from sight. The demoness' fiery hair was dyed a bleached white color, talons grew out from her fingertips while her lashers lifted from the floor hovering behind her like a pair of obedient bloodhounds ready to be unleashed on a terrified woodland creature.

"I knew there was something different in you, but that's unexpected." Teemo sighed in what sounded like mild disappointment.

Evelynn frowned at the lack of reaction. Perhaps her prey was naively mistaking her for a simple shapeshifter? Regardless, she had some punishment to administer and agony to unravel from the depths of this being. The demoness' eyes glimmered in the dark, her lashers lunging forward to cut shallow strips against the man's flesh.

She would take her time, nice and slow, basking in the screams and terror of the small creature as the torture escalated. Evelynn's trail of thought was derailed when her lashers were suddenly parried by what appeared to be a crimson tail with a spade-like tip.

"You are so feisty my dear, and here I was contemplating the chances of the two of us meeting in this backwater town." Smiled the shorter demon as he too shed his false skin. His cream-colored fur gave way to a red mane of dense crimson hair, hooves crushed his pricey leather shoes and an enormous pair of arched black horns spurted out from his temples. A golden crown, alight with sin, appeared above his head, hovering there like a perverse beacon of sinister light.

Evelynn was taken aback. She had only encountered two other demons before after materializing in the mortal plane and while those two had been terrifically entertaining and alluringly despicable in their own right, she had never once laid eyes on such a perfectly vile being before.

Teemo oozed wrongness in a way that made her lashers tingle with excitement. Her eyes regarded his twisted body, taking in the sight of how stunning he was in his sculptured imperfection, his corrupted image being the realization of her wettest nightmares in the flesh. His miasma filled the void in the starving crater where her soul should be, his negativity sated Evelynn's hunger for torment and pain.

Unbeknownst to her, Teemo was also taken with the dark predatory beauty of her primal form. Lashers and spaded tail interweaved as the two demons unwittingly closed the distance between them with dazed steps.

Evelynn basked in the wretched radiance of Teemo's malevolent crown while he was lost in the pitch blackness of her thorned soul.

"You are so beautiful," The demoness whispered as she knelt down to touch his face with her bright pink talons, "You emit hate the same way the sun emits light."

"Your inconceivable darkness draws me in like a black hole." Rasped the yordle-demon, leaning forward to press his lips against Evelynn's.

The two kissed taking in the other's caustic essence, shadows and sulphuric fumes swirled around them tying them in a carnal pact of eerie magnificence.

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**OOOO**

The bacon sizzled on the frying pan as Teemo turned the fatty strips over with a spatula. The demon whistled an upbeat tune to himself as he placed a plate of sunny side up eggs on the kitchen table.

"Thank you, my love, but I am afraid that I have to go. Lissandra has a new case for me." Smiled Evelynn, leaning down to place a quick kiss on the male demon's fuzzy cheek. The infernal seductress was wearing the upper part of a strict dark blue suit along with a long skirt of the same color. A pair of reading glasses was perched on her nose and a long black pursue was held under her arm.

"That damned witch of a boss is taking advantage of you, I swear." Mumbled the peeved yordle with an agitated huff, "She can't have you working overtime just because you are her best attorney." He grumbled softly.

"I will be back before you even notice it. You know I don't like staying awake from you two if I can't help it." Cooed the smartly-dressed woman, leaning lower to kiss Teemo's pregnant belly. The male demon huffed once more in reply, but a tiny smile teased the edges of his lips, his crimson tail swaying gently behind him.

"Fine," He muttered as he returned back to the bacon he was frying, "Remember to bring back a victim or two when you return home, we are running out of prisoners in the basement." He grimaced.

"Sure, honey." Evelynn grinned as she stepped out of the kitchen ready for another long day in the infernal courtrooms of Valoran.


	2. Rise of the Scout part 1

It ain't easy being an Adventurer, whoever claims otherwise is either a liar or a fool. One of those boisterous and careless folks that step into dungeons with unearned confidence in their skills and usually end up in an early grave or get their entire party killed.

It is quite easy receiving the appropriate coin after completing a quest for the Guild, and it's even easier to spend your money in specialty shops and booze and nightly pleasures, but getting the job done? Staring death in the eye and telling 'im to fuck off?' That, my friend, is what adventuring's all about.

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**Oooo**

Short as a child and furry as a northerner barbarian that dwelled in an ice cave, Teemothy Grass was perhaps one of the less intimidating members of the Adventurer Guild. His short stature was common for adults of his kind, his lean build didn't inspire the bards to write songs about him, and there wasn't even a single drop of magic swimming in his veins.

Most veteran adventurers called him a failure, for the poor Yordle hadn't been blessed with unique talents and special skills. Teemo couldn't tank hits that fell lesser men, tame wild beasts with a single glance and heal his comrades like the worshippers of the Church of the Eternal Sun. He was an average bloke struggling to make a living in a profession meant for extraordinary people. An unassuming nobody trying to excel in the same filed as genius swordsmen and powerful sorcerers.

What Teemothy _could_ actually do was much, much simpler than flashy light shows and impossible feats of strength and dexterity. Teemothy's skills relied on close observation and survival knowledge, dabbling in poison and sneaking his way to the dens of sleeping monsters to strike when they were at their most vulnerable.

Instead of magic and fortitude, Teemo favored cunning and patience. His entire skillset consisted of little tricks that anyone could pick up given enough time, -if they were lucky enough to survive the dangers of the profession that is, both the expected and the unexpected. Useful tidbits and workarounds that the young Yordle had been _forced_ to learn in order to earn its keep without the support of a party, since no budding adventurers wanted such a frail and strange creature joining their hunting groups.

_'And where does that leave me'_ Teemothy thought bitterly as he reached out and tore a faded herb-gathering request from the quest board, _'I can't progress as an adventurer by myself past this point and I can only accept the easiest quests given to greenhorns, unless I belong to a registered hunting party.' _The Yordle pondered, shooting a sideways glance at the dozens of chattering men and women that were turning in proofs of their success to the various receptionists that the guild employed.

The adventurers looked happy, content with their life. Smiling like people with full stomachs and heavy coin-pouches, and Teemo averted his gaze, frowning as he exited the 2-storey building that housed the Adventurer Guild. The self-taught scout had more pressing matters to attend to than the hopelessness of his current situation. The lingering aftertaste of defeat that pooled in his mouth.

The sun was already halfway up in the sky and his competitors would be no-doubt filling their satchels with the medicinal herbs that he was supposed to bring back to get his daily coin.

If Teemo hurried, he just might be able to complete his quest and stop at the Dancing Elf for a pint before sundown. Maybe he'd even find someone to exchange stories with over a light dinner! A kindred soul that felt out of place amongst the loudmouthed locals. A similarly disillusioned individual that was tired of playing their part in the bustling guise of civilization, getting pushed around by revolting figures of authority and entitled noblemen.

Only time would tell, but the Yordle decided to remain optimistic. After all, there wasn't much else that he could do about it.

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**0000**

It always surprised Teemo how in tune he was with nature. Whether that was because Yordles were believed to be the descendants of the Fae or because his survival training prepared him for the worst possible outcome when it came to wandering alone in the woods, Teemo didn't know, but the sounds of the forest around him put him at ease.

The scout could appreciate the seemingly peaceful atmosphere, though being at peace certainly didn't mean that Teemo would lower his guard because of his familiarity with the terrain. The Yordle had stumbled upon enough monsters and beasts in the past not to make such a moronic mistake. There were all kinds of uglies in these woods that'd love to make a snack out of an absentminded Yordle.

Even as he walked with careful and measured strides as not to produce too much noise and to avoid stepping on any old traps left behind by irresponsible hunters, Teemo kept his hands to his darts and his blowgun. The furry scout's immediate attention being equally diverted between scanning the ground for medicinal herbs and surveying his surroundings for potential signs of an ambush.

Bandits were as common a sight as monsters lately, what with the strongest adventurers moving to the big cities to acquire better rewards, and the weakest of the bunch forming shady parties in their absence to exploit the efforts of overzealous rookies.

_'__Damn roaches the lot of them.' _The scout mused darkly_ 'I might be poor and unpopular but at least I am not gutting innocent folks left and right.' _

Teemo's expression turned sour upon noticing how dry the forest's floor was underneath his sturdy green boots.

The dryness of the soil wasn't surprising given that it hadn't rained in those parts for a while, yet the scout disliked the notion that the ground had hardened. Teemothy wouldn't be able to reliably track the passage of animals in the area in such circumstances. Unless an Ogre or a Cyclops had stomped their way past the trees pulverizing everything in their path, the young adventurer wouldn't be able to tell if he was heading straight into a goblin camp or walking next to the nest of a hungry wolf.

"If it is goblins I will be able to hear them before they are able to see me. And wolves prefer hunting at night when there are less broke adventurers making a ruckus in the woods." Teemo reminded himself, kneeling down to examine a plant with thorny red leaves.

Bloodthorn had a wide variety of uses. Direct contact with the plant caused the recipient's skin to be overcome with a feeling of numbness. The elderly boiled the plant's barbed thorns and drunk the water to soothe their chronic back pain, and alchemists added bloodthorn to their miraculous healing concoctions to lessen the pain of the wounded that ingested their elixirs after battle.

Taking a small knife out of his pocket with a gloved hand, Teemo cut the stem of the herb a few centimeters above the ground. The male Yordle placed the herb in its satchel along with the knife and stared ruefully at a patch of disturbed dirt and crushed scarlet leaves a few meters away from where it was standing.

The great thing about bloodthorn was that in spring a new plant would bloom from the stem of a cut bloodthorn as long as there were still pieces of the stem remaining and its roots were relatively intact.

Teemo respected the forest for providing him with an income through him completing gathering, escorting and monster-extermination quests. Be it medicinal plants, edible mushrooms, monster parts and poison supplies, Teemothy always tried to only take as much as he strictly needed from the forest, sometimes even less than that.

The furry adventurer never hunted the gray wolves that inhabited the forest during the mating season, or destroyed their nests, or killed their cubs to lure out their parents and slay them to sell their pelts. He didn't uproot every useful plant that he found while he was hunting monsters to get a bit of extra coin on the side, and whenever he discovered a new species of animals and plant life in some hidden location he kept that information to himself.

Sadly, Teemo's colleagues in the Adventurer Guild didn't pay any mind to the preservation of the ecosystem, and Teemothy could only take steps to minimize the damage that they caused instead of preventing them from harming the forest in the first place.

The regional administrators of the Adventurer Guild of course _couldn't_ _be bothered_ to remedy the bad habits of their employees as long as their clients paid them a fee to have their requests pinned on the guild's quest board. Taking action to deal with such mundane complaints weren't their problem, they reckoned.

Sometimes life sucked like that. People made a profit out of causing trouble for their sensible counterparts and the guardsmen accepted bribes from crooks to turn a blind eye on unlawful acts, looking away when the ruffians blackmailed an unlucky storeowner or robbed some poor merchant on the street in broad daylight.

Fortunately, in this instance, the dryads that protected the woods would help the forest heal after the harvesting period of bloodthorn and soothvine were over. The adventurers would then grumble about the lack of available work and have to earn their pay by slaying the monsters that preyed on the townsfolk.

It was a pity that many families would be in mourning by then.

The young Yordle had always found it vexing how the priests and the paladins, and all the supposedly _decent folk_ ignored the woes of the citizens until their reputations were in jeopardy. Then, _suddenl_y, the brave knights found time to hunt down the beasts that had been attacking the southern farms for weeks, and healers could afford to cure the sickly for free instead of charging them ridiculous sums to treat their ailments.

What a miracle it was how the officials abruptly appeared to give a damn when one of the king's men was due for a visit!

Teemothy shook his head at that thought, disgust churning inside him, splashing against his heart like a dark roiling wave. The scout slowly approached the torn and stomped patch of herbs beside the old oak tree, silently collecting the few crimson leaves that could be salvaged from the otherwise destroyed plants.

Three and a half leaves caked in dirt had been left behind by whoever had destroyed the bloodthorn plants, the rest was a mass of molded fibers and such, folded in the vague shape of flat footwear. Squeezed splotches of organic matter that was deteriorating under the shade of the trees, rotting in the form of soles and layers of stinking flora, pebbles and sticky juices scattered around crushed grass.

Teemothy held the intact leaves in his gloved palm with the care of a mother that was holding her newborn. His gaze caressed the feint patterns of white veins barely peeking below the surface of the deep maroon surface. Teemo had collected nearly ten leaves so far, a few more of those and he would have enough medicinal plants in his satchel to call it a day.

The adventurer patted the bloodthorns gently, removing some of the dust that had settled over the sanguine leaves. He shot one last glance at the stomped patch of earth in front of him and shook his head softly.

The dead plants would become nutrients for the trees, a part of them would borne new life.

_'__That's got to count for something.'_ Teemothy thought solemnly, putting the salvaged leaves inside his satchel along with the plant that he had picked up earlier. He rose to his feet and dusted his knees, slapping them with quick purposeful movements.

Teemo eyed the forest, making sure that nothing had changed since the last time he had glanced towards the maze of trees and began heading northwards, where he remembered seeing a blooming soothvine on a previous stroll across the woods. A stroll that had resulted in him fighting for his life against a mutated two-headed wolf, a horrifying abomination that had escaped from the workshop of an unhinged necromancer.

"Hut, two, three, four" Teemo counted the steps until he reached his prize as he jumped over a rotten log that was covered in moss. Skipping away the moment that his feet touched the ground, avoiding gnarly tree roots and angular rocks with a practiced ease that most elves would envy.

Teemo's boots didn't make a sound as the Yordle danced across the forest, occasionally pausing to listen to its surroundings or examine a broken branch on a bush or taste some delicious berries that grew near his path, before Teemo pressed on once again, stealthy and efficient.

The scout spotted a fox among the trees that instantly run away upon noticing him. He avoided a goblin patrol by crouching low behind a thick bush as the monsters walked past him, gurgling and grunting while they conversed in their foul language, shoving each other and hitting the trees with long notched sticks and crude spears.

After the goblins left, the stealthy Yordle marked the area where he had encountered them on his map and carved three straight lines on a nearby tree with his knife in warning to the local hunters -the universal sign for monsters being present in the nearby vicinity that alarmed travelers of imminent danger.

The young adventurer must have been walking for two quarters of an hour thus far, making good progress to the place where he had last spotted the lone soothvine, despite stopping every few minutes to pocket a poisonous flower or collect an edible mushroom that was growing besides an animal trail. A small failsafe on his part to make a little extra spending money, just in case that the soothvine was missing and he didn't manage to find the herbs that he needed to complete his gathering quest.

Ordinary folks didn't pay as much as the Adventurer Guild, but Teemo could still earn a living by utilizing his limited skills as a forester and braving the dangers of the unknown.

He had a loose partnership with Ashe, the proprietor of the Dancing Elf inn. He provided her with fresh mushrooms, wild onions and bulbs that he foraged in the woods for the meals that the elven maiden served to her customers, and she in return let him sleep in the unused storage room behind the stable free of charge and occasionally served him a warm bowl of stew on the house.

Teemo smiled wishfully as he turned right on an intersection where two animal trails met and converged into a wider rough line across the parted grass leading to a shallow pond. There were certainly enough wild onions and mushrooms in his bag to keep Ashe happy, and soon he would have enough medicinal plants to complete his quest as well. If not, then Teemo could always turn around and deal with the goblins that he had discovered previously to get a reward from the local trappers.

The ground beneath the Yordle's feet was already transitioning from dry earth to a brown layer of dirt and sated soil. The plant life around him gradually turning more vivid and lush, shy flowers and weeds sprouting proudly in contrast to the iron-fisted regime of the tall elms and the gnarly oaks that Teemo had been seeing for the last half an hour or so.

The scout crouched down to trace the countless indentions that had been left on the ground by the passage of wolves, monsters and forest creatures. Beasts that crawled out of their hiding holes for a drink, and others that stalked herbivores feeding on the plant life. He calmly observed the deep indentions of reinforced boots walking in a straight line, tried to recall if he had heard of a hunting party being deployed in the area. His frown darkening upon pondering that, certainly adventurers on an extermination quest weren't the only people that set up ambushes in the middle of nowhere.

Those footprints were equally likely to have been left behind by bandits searching for victims in this secluded area. Backstabbers and cutthroats, heinous criminals that attacked people in the woods and murdered them in cold blood for a handful of coins.

Most adventurers would rather fight somewhere closer to civilization instead of near a pond where the beasts and predators of the forest would regularly visit to sate their thirst. Crooks and bandits on the other hand, preferred to operate away from the lookouts near the town and popular hunting spots where a shout of alarm could potentially summon a crowd of witnesses, and even a few guardsmen on a good day.

Loud voices suddenly reached Teemothy's furry ears, cursing and yelling radiating from somewhere beyond the thicket opposite to the contemplative Yordle. An argument was taking place, it seemed, an altercation between civilized people judging by the lack of gurgling guttural noises that made out the crude goblin tongue.

Uncertain as to what he was getting himself into, yet curious to see what all this ruckus was about, the young scout crept closer to the shrubs that shielded the speakers from view. Teemo moved as stealthily as a sprite, purposefully avoiding stepping on sticks or leaves while crouching to further reduce his chances of being spotted. He readied himself, steeling his resolve in case that he had to use his blowgun, picking a poisoned dart from the leather pouch that hung from his belt.

As the young adventurer moved closer to the source of the shouting, he started recognizing the words that were being yelled from the angry party. Someone was demanding for another person to cooperate with them and to give up all their valuables as he spat out harsh words in a heavy northern accent.

Teemo held his breath as he carefully leaned sideways, peeking out from behind the tree that he used as cover. The scout's green and brown attire merging nicely with the colors of the tree barks around him and the moss and the ivy that grew against their uneven surface.

The people at the pond certainly didn't notice Teemothy's arrival, being too busy arguing amongst themselves in agitated and particularly loud voices.

Two men dressed in dark clothing with mismatched pieces of armor sticking out above their garments were trying to scare off a dryad that had been bathing in the pond until they had ambushed her. The green-skinned woman was scowling at the shouting men, showing no fear about her wellbeing despite the bandits waving antique rust-crusted swords at her while she was unarmed, naked and dripping water in the middle of the pond.

"Wretched spirit, give us your treasure!" One of the men shouted, baring his teeth at the clearly unimpressed dryad. He had dirty blond hair and shook his sword in the air threateningly as he spoke. His battered shoulder guard was dented and utterly filthy.

The dryad just shot him a glare full of disgust, using her arms to cover her naked breasts. Her long, wet crimson hair was cascading behind her back and over her smooth shoulders like a scarlet waterfall.

Teemo noticed that there were batches of redthorn and soothvine sprouting out from the sides of the woman's hips, her temples and her shoulders. The Yordle scout couldn't really tell if the plants were part of the dryad's physiology since Teemo had never seen one from up close before, but they shifted subtly along with the redheaded beauty's strange floral fins whenever she moved.

"Ya better listen to 'im," The second bandit hissed darkly, spittle flying out of his snarling mouth to land on his tangled brown beard as he took a step towards the green woman. This man was a head taller than the other bandit and had a nasty scar running from his right brow to the opposite cheek. The wound appeared to be infected judging be its color. "We aren't playing games here. Ya either give us your magic 'old while we are asking nicely or 'hings are gonna get ugly!" He shouted.

"I have no gold to give to you," The woman scoffed, shaking her head as if she was disappointed by the bandit's intelligence, "Dryads have no use for shiny rocks and metal discs, our only interest lies in nurturing the forests that we call home."

"You are lying, spirit," Growled the first bandit shaking with anger, "Everyone knows that you forest demons hide treasure in tree holes and below the waters of creaks."

The other bandit grunted in agreement, staring at the exotic woman arrogantly as if his partner's words had proven his point. His smug expression combined with the infected scar that marred his visage and his disheveled beard caused him to look even uglier than before.

"Mortals…" The dryad snorted humorlessly and the taller man snarled at her like a savage beast as he raised his rust-crusted sword to strike her down.

Teemothy didn't wait to see if the strike would land or if the dryad would manage to move out of the way in time. He jumped out of his hiding spot, vaulted over a bush and aiming his blowgun at the face of the swinging bandit he unleashed a dart imbued with potent poison, sending it flying at the bearded crook.

"Aarg!" The bandit cried out in pain, his palm coming to rest at his bleeding scarred cheek. The skin around the tip of the dart was starting to redden and blister, and the man clawed at his injured face desperately, hoping to alleviate the terrible pain that suddenly assaulted him and inhibited his vision.

The dryad and the blond criminal flinched at the volume of the bearded man's cries that was currently tearing out his own flesh, scanning the trees for a sign of the attacker.

By the time that the blond bandit's gaze managed to find the short Yordle in green standing a few feet away from them, Teemo had already loaded another dart into his blowgun and was aiming it at the startled brute.

"You little-!" The bandit cursed as he dove to the side to escape the whistling projectile. His body splashed into the pond, kicking drops of water everywhere. He spat a mouthful of water, glaring at his adversary hatefully, his sword vanishing underneath the cool liquid while the crook made to get up to lunge at the Yordle.

Teemo hopped backwards to create some distance. He glanced at the tall bandit that had stopped clawing at his face and was now lumbering towards him with his visage bloody and covered in boils.

"That doesn't look good," The adventurer commented under his breath, shooting a dart at the bandit in the pond that was starting to pull himself out of the water. The man dove beneath the surface again and Teemothy took advantage of the distraction to deal with the wounded bandit that was running at him with a furious expression plastered on his maimed face.

Waiting until the angry man in front of him committed to a downwards swing that intended to split him in two, Teemo rolled underneath the crook's feet, stabbing the back of the bandit's right knee as he rose with the dart that he had been about to load into his blowgun before he'd found himself locked in close combat.

The bandit span around in an instant, tears of pain obscuring his vision as he swung his weapon around in a frenzy.

Teemothy had barely any time to dodge the frantic swings of the screaming man. He rolled out of the way of the initial swing and lunged to the side in a hurry as the sword slashed at the place that he had been occupying mere seconds ago. The sharp steel cutting blades of grass that were caught in its path, one of the slashes coming so close to the retreating adventurer that it trimmed the crest of his hat as it passed above him.

Knowing that he would soon have to face both of the bandits at the same time and not liking his odds, Teemo made a run for the blonde man that had since nearly crawled out of the pond and was currently wiping water from his eyes on all fours, his rusted blade still resting within his grasp.

The adventurer made a beeline for him, sprinting forward while his blinded opponent bellowed and cursed behind him, still swinging his sword madly in his general direction, the other hand of the scarred crook extended to the level of his waist to feel for obstacles in his path as he approached the pond. Tears and blood and bits of torn flesh obscuring the bearded northerner's vision.

Finally blinking the last of the water away from his eyes, the blond bandit lifted his head to see what had happened to his comrade and locked eyes with the smiling Yordle that was racing for the pond.

The eyes of the uninjured bandit widened to the size of saucers upon suddenly finding the hated creature so close to him and his bellowing comrade rushing to his aid. His arm shot forward attempting to stab the little terror, his rusted blade missing the Yordle's torso by a few inches, drawing blood as the edge of the battered sword scratched a deep gash on Teemothy's shoulder.

The fearless scout gritted his teeth as he shoved the rusty sword away from him and gripped his hat tightly in his furry hand. He spat at the bandit's eyes and he instinctively swung his blade horizontally while shielding his face in return, remembering what had happened to his comrade when the little menace had broken through the tall bandit's defense.

Something soft fell on top of the blond man's head. The bandit waited with bated breath, expecting to feel the same agony of the Yordle's poison as his bearded companion. His blade cut through the air meeting no resistance upon completing its arc, yet despite that the furry creature screamed in what could only be despair.

His comrade had arrived to finish the creature off, it seemed. The blond man smirked sinisterly, blinking rapidly to clear his blurry sight while absentmindedly taking a hold of the thing that had fallen on his head. It was surprisingly light and malleable for a weapon, but whatever the case the bandit knew that his devilish foe wasn't to be underestimated under any circumstances.

Near the edge of the hazy pond and hovering above the drenched man ominously, a dark silhouette watched him, panting heavily while the recovering bandit brought the thing in his grasp before his face to examine it with watering eyes.

_'__How peculiar, the Yordle had attempted to assault him with some kind of hat… but why?'_ He pondered, glancing at the shadow above him that appeared to be lifting its sword over its head, holding it with both hands, almost as if his seething comrade was mustering his strength to unleash a devastating strike on the creature that had attacked them.

The bandit's eyes widened as he understood the damned squirrel's plan. He opened his mouth to alarm his blinded companion about the Yordle's ploy, but before the words could escape his throat, the bearded bandit's sword caved in his skull.

Grunting in satisfaction at finally killing the pesky adventurer, the bearded man knelt beside the pond. He set his sword down next to him and leaned forward, splashing bloody water at his irritated eyes to clear them and clenching his throbbing foot whilst cursing his bad luck.

Thinking that the corpse with the stained green hat that bled out in the shallows belonged to the now dead Yordle, and having forgotten about the presence of the dryad in his singular need to murder the one that had harmed him, the bandit didn't pay attention to the sound of dripping water emanating from somewhere close to him.

"_Please,_ take your sweet 'uking time, won't ya?" He grumbled at his useless companion, rubbing his bleeding face and grimacing at the sensation of mutilated flesh against the pads of his scrutinizing fingertips, "It ain't like I took care of the stinkin' rat by myself while you 'ere bathing." He mocked.

"Thank you." A chirpy voice answered to him from the water. The bandit froze and slowly removed his hands from his face, only succeeding in getting a quick view of the smiling scout looming over him and his swishing blowgun, before the weapon slammed against the crook's temple and everything went dark.


	3. Rise of the Scout part 2

**The long-awaited (by only myself) continuation of the Zyra story is here. I hope you will enjoy it.**

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"Are you alright?" The strange furry male asked Zyra after he finished checking on the drowning man to make sure that the brutish human that had ambushed her wouldn't be getting up to attack them anytime soon. The dryad observed the unconscious bandit with keen interest as he laid on the shore of the pond with his face resting inside the rippling water, bubbles of air popping out of the water's surface and bursting around his bleeding head.

The obnoxious human wasn't moving at all except from his limbs that were twitching lazily every few seconds or so, like the bodies of dying hares that had been caught in the jaws of hungry wolves and their hearts were slowing down. Zyra suspected that much like the vacant-eyed hares that she had seen being torn to shreds by her lupine forest neighbors, the sleeping man would never wake up again, or leave the pond, for that matter.

"I'm fine," The pensive dryad replied, examining the short stranger fixedly. Usually, creatures of his stature were proven to be either weak or incredibly stupid -prey for the carnivores that lived in the forest, or only possessing a basic degree of intelligence, like the goblins that often trampled on her plants and paid with their lives for harming her children.

This furry man, however, had displayed both exceptional fighting prowess and incredible cunning in pitting two former allies against each other. He struck with the viciousness of a hissing serpent and the craftiness of a spider that trapped flies in its web. He descended upon his enemies when they least expected it like a soaring eagle plunging down from the sky to capture its prey in its talons. He fought with poison, darts and sticks, cruelty, misdirection, everything could become a weapon in his tiny skilled hands. Makeshift fangs and claws for him to bring down his prey.

As a denizen of the forest and an advocate of natural selection herself, Zyra couldn't help but be impressed by the resourcefulness and tenacity of such an unconventional hunter. She was intrigued by his peculiar appearance that resembled both the creatures that she lived with in relative harmony and the humans that invaded her home to steal and destroy what wasn't theirs to take.

The dryad wanted to talk to the strange green-clad man. She… desired to learn more about him and his reclusive kind, something that had never occurred before when outsiders were involved.

"That's good. That you are okay, I mean." The short male nodded seemingly satisfied with her answer. Drenched from head to toe in water from diving beneath the surface of the pond to confuse his adversaries, Teemothy started to squeeze the water out of his soaking wet clothes without leaving Zyra out of his sight.

Her benefactor or not, the scout wasn't sure that the dryad wouldn't also treat him as a threat and an invader for stepping foot in her _garden_, and Teemo was pretty sure that the redheaded woman had had at least a spell or two in her arsenal to chase off pesky outsiders.

_'__Or to kill them…'_ Teemo sternly reminded himself while gazing into the green woman's mesmerizing amber orbs, orbs that were as exotic as they were alluring and dangerous, sparkling with hidden intentions and untold secrets.

Nobody knew a lot about the real nature of dryads, and maybe there was a reason that there were so few stories about them being told over frothing tankards of beer at crowded inns and taverns.

_'__A lack of stories concerning beautiful, scantily dressed maidens that live alone in the woods, there is certainly something wrong with that,'_ Teemo thought sourly. Drunken adventurers not talking about mysterious and comely women was like people denying that elves were beautiful, that trolls were violent and Earls were greedy. There must have been a reason that young adventurers were advised to never follow a dryad into the woods. A reasonable explanation as to why the scout had never heard of people returning back home after ignoring those well-meant warnings.

Teemothy picked up the bloodstained hat that was still floating beside the mutilated bandit with the cracked skull and wrung it out with a face full of disgust. Zyra's eyes followed the trickle of bloody water that was expelled from the stained fabric as it dribbled down into the pond, dissipating in the form of ever-expanding wine-colored shapes that faded as they grew larger and larger under the surface of the transparent liquid. Yet for all the squeezing and twisting that Teemo gave it, the worn fabric of his hat didn't appear to be getting any cleaner.

"Great, my hat is ruined." The scout muttered to himself, throwing the bloodstained hat back in the water with a tired sigh. It landed between the corpse of the bandit and Zyra with a soft splash, hurling water about in small waves. The dryad raised an eyebrow at the furry man's antics, more amused than annoyed by the Yordle's sudden outburst.

Teemothy ignored her as he started searching the pockets of the bandits for anything that could be of use to him. He might as well gain something out of this unpleasant encounter.

"What is your name, stranger? What is the name of your brood?" The caretaker of the forest hummed in a surprisingly melodic voice, striding forward to meet the adventurer on dry soil with inhuman grace. The patches of bloodthorn on the dryad's body swayed gently with each gentle motion, moving as if the wind was exclusively caressing their tender leaves while disregarding all other petals and foliages around them.

The entire sight was wrong and unnerving, yet undoubtedly extremely beautiful. A goddess of nature was gracing the young adventurer with her presence. She was regarding _him_ of all people with the respect that his peers never exhibited whenever he caught them gossiping about him behind his back. His peers who covered their mocking smirks with their palms and spoke in condescending tones to describe how unsuited he was for their grand profession. Talking about how much they loathed being in the same room as him. Complaining that they shouldn't be sharing the same title with a useless failure of an adventurer.

Teemothy frowned, pocketing a few copper coins and a silver pendant that he had found on the blond bandit. He glanced at the approaching dryad warily while he knelt next to the drowned man with the tangled beard, untying the various pouches that the brute carried on his leather belt. They were dirty and mismatched, much like the rest of the outfit of the deceased northerner, but perhaps there was something of value inside of them. Some strips of chewy meat for Teemo to munch on to forget his hunger or a trinket that he could trade for coin in the town's market.

"Why would you like to know that?" Teemo muttered instead of answering Zyra's questions, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. The short scout couldn't do magic to save his life, he couldn't even get a single incantation to work. But even he knew that names held power, power that a competent enough practitioner of the mystical arts could exploit to harm those that didn't safeguard such knowledge and drew the ire of petty mages and wrathful spirits alike.

If he was to die today, Teemo would much rather die on his two feet fighting like a man instead of perishing in his sleep as shadows choked the life out of him or sucked his soul out of his mouth.

"I have never seen a creature such as you before. I'm curious to learn more about your kind." The dryad tilted her head upon reaching the shore in a way that made her wet scarlet locks dance across her smooth light-green shoulders. It was only when Zyra let her arms drop on either side of her and leaned down to take a better look at the Yordle that Teemo noticed the new leaves that had sprouted from the green woman's body. Large pointy leaves that were now wrapped around the dryad's curves like a miniature form-fitting gown of sorts, protecting the dryad's modesty from prying eyes.

_'__Magic'_ Teemo noted, somewhat unnerved. He licked his lips while gathering his thoughts. Trying to recall how many darts he had spent during his fight with the northerners, estimating how many of them he had left and how fast he could hurl one of them at the dryad's face in case things turned ugly.

Teemothy Grass didn't like surprises and he liked spell casters even less. Their pretentious airs of superiority, the danger they posed to whoever would anger them unintentionally, their familiars and their otherworldly summons, the millions of ways that they could mess you up with a few words and terse hand gestures. The scout could attempt to predict what a cutthroat or a bandit would do in a fight and act accordingly. Mages however had too many tricks up their sleeves to be called anything other than unpredictable and they possessed too much of a bloated ego to care about the consequences of their actions and who was caught in the crossfire of their spells.

"Besides," The green woman continued as she stared at the frowning adventurer, her tone changing into a happy inquiry, a charming and friendly timbre that barely concealed the undertones of excitement that dwelled in her voice, "Shouldn't I learn the name of my savior to thank him properly? Far from civilization I may live, but that doesn't mean that I lack civility towards those that aid me." She finished with a teasing smile putting her pearly whites on display.

Considering all the stories about demonic seductresses and beasts that masqueraded as humans to lure unfortunate travelers to their lairs that he had heard of, Teemo was mildly surprised to find out that the dryad possessed normal teeth instead of a mouth full of razor-sharp canines and leftover gore as one would expected from such an entity. Nevertheless, the scout feigned disinterest and soldiered on as if blushing maidens falling for his non-existent charm was a commonplace occurrence.

"I wouldn't call myself anyone's savior." Teemothy drawled quietly while shoving partially-spoiled rations and battered knickknacks into his satchel. Tangled lengths of twine and fishhooks, a couple of scratched brass buttons, a bar of soap, a shiny tin cup that must have belonged to a murdered adventurer and bared his faded initials near the base.

"I just happened to be passing by while those men were preparing to attack you. I just dislike strangers that skewer people with their swords like pigs and laugh at the prospect of killing a lost traveler. It just occurred to me," The frowning scout muttered, staring back at the glowing orbs of the dryad, "That those men would have turned their swords towards me after they were done wiping your blood from their blades."

"Indeed, it is exactly as you say," Zyra's smile stretched wider, although the almost predatory curling of her lips and the ominous glint in her amber eyes did nothing to make her look any less inviting and desirable, any less mysterious and deadly "You killed those savages to avoid being targeted by them in the future. You were weeding out potential enemies and unwittingly gained a new ally in the process."

"There are a lot of nasty humans roaming these woods lately, invading my home and murdering my neighbors," The dryad said with an outstretched hand and a serious expression marring her green visage, "I wouldn't say no to having a friend walk among my poor, defenseless children. Someone that I can depend on in my time of need… a kindred soul that also cares about the fate of the forest as much as I do and wants to preserve the natural balance."

Teemothy stared at the offered hand with the pointy pink claws for a long time while he weighed his options. He could refuse the dryad's request, probably insulting her by declining to join her in the process. He then would have to fight an enraged plant mage in the middle of nowhere with poisoned darts that had little to no effect on the green woman due to her being more plant than a human being with red blood running in her veins.

The conflicted scout didn't like his chances of defeating the smirking spell caster just with his wits and his blowgun. Perhaps if he could ambush her when she wasn't paying attention to her surroundings, if he was carrying a flint and oil on him, if he was willing to set the forest aflame to trap her and burn her to a crisp and risk burning alive alongside the amber-eyed sorceress…

Denying her was clearly not an option and yet the pensive Yordle was hesitant to declare itself an ally of the dryad and the forest. Making a deal with a playful sprite or a conniving demon was as detrimental to one's health as revealing your real name to a hideous necromancer according to most tavern stories.

Everything was perilous and damning when magic was involved, after all. Mortals could die but once, stolen souls, however, could suffer forever, screaming inside a dusty bottle or some sinister lantern while their wardens grinned in perverse glee at their agony.

"I'm not as strong or dependable as you make me out to be," Teemo pointed half-heartedly, wishing that the dryad would sneer in annoyance, pull her hand back and walk away only to vanish behind the sea of trees, "Even if I do become your friend there is no guaranty that I will be able to help you or your… children." He shook his head as if he was truly disappointed that he couldn't be more useful to Zyra, trailing off while praying that the dryad would dismiss him like the members of the hunting parties that he tried approaching at the town's Adventurer Guild.

"Nonsense," Zyra quickly snorted back in reply, that smooth green hand with the jagged pink nails moving even closer to the reluctant Yordle, "I've seen you fight. You are both cunning and fierce when you have to. You would make a great ally, a steadfast defender of the forest. Plus, my children are already fond of you, so there is no reason for me not to trust you, stranger." She added the last part with an amused twinkled in her honey-colored orbs.

"Your children are fond of me?" Teemo parroted somewhat confused, instantly noticing the change on the green woman's expression. Zyra's face seemed to soften at hearing his question, beaming with pride. Her smile suddenly appearing a lot less predatory, crimson lips twitching upwards in genuine mirth, her strange fins perking up in excitement, bloodthorn leaves swaying gently in the non-existent wind.

"That they are," The dryad hummed pleasantly, "They are my eyes and my ears in the forest. From the farthest thicket of gnarly trees to the humblest blade of grass that straightens its back in defiance between the cracks of the road, my children see everything and whisper everything that they see in my ear. They have told me a great many things about a short furry man that tends to injured animals and waters the younglings that are withering and dying. We are already allies even if we haven't met in person before. This is just a… formality? Isn't that how humans call striking a deal?" Zyra paused, squinting and tilting her head, attempting to recall everything that she knew about the shaky alliances of the world outside of the forest.

_'__What the hell. It's not like people are lining up to become my comrades.'_ Teemo thought gloomily, hesitantly grasping Zyra's hand with his own. _'Perhaps having a dryad on my side will make my hunts easier and the long strolls during my gathering quests less lonely. I wouldn't say no to a bit of camaraderie too, if that's included in me becoming a protector of the forest, or whatever.'_

"Excellent! I look forward to seeing what you are going to do about all the kidnappers and the invaders that desecrate my home." The green beauty grinned at him from ear to ear, leaning forward to press her lips against the corner of Teemothy's mouth like a seductive demoness that had managed to tempt a mortal into giving up their soul in a bargain. Honey-colored orbs sparkling like gemstones brought from the desert, the flowers and shrubs around them bowing low or encircling them with their frail branches, before surging away in a carpet of shifting vines and plunging roots.

Zyra chuckled at Teemothy's startled expression. The male Yordle tasted berries upon licking its lips nervously, it took a deep breath to calm down and its nostrils were engulfed in the dryad's floral aroma of sweet herbs as Zyra stood up, pulling Teemo to his feet with little effort despite her lithe physique.

"You should get to work," She smirked, "You have a lot of problems to solve and a lot of invaders to chase away from my garden. Prove to me that I was right to place my trust in you. Protect my children and you shall be rewarded…" She purred, winking at Teemo over her shoulder, already walking away from him, caressing blossoming flower buds and stretching branches as she walked past rapidly swelling plant life to dip her feet in the pond.

The scout nodded dumbly, unsure what he had gotten himself into. Watching the dryad's curvy form fixedly as Zyra returned back to the bloodied water to bathe.

_The End_

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**Notes: So what do you think of the ship? I've never thought of it before but after writing this story I can see Teemo and Zyra getting together to overthrow mankind. She can grow mushrooms for him and he can turn people into fertilizer for her plants. True love, plus they share the same color scheme so you know that Riot intends for them to get married at some point.  
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